Dirty Little Secrets
by RiaShelford
Summary: Charles isn't the person everyone at Blackmount thinks he is. He keeps a side to him concealed beneath an impenetrable academic exterior. A new boy arrives, someone who knows about the other side of Charles, and will come to know much more about the life he keeps hidden. High School AU, Charles/Erik, Erik/Raven, Erik/Shaw. Rated M for language and suggestive themes. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Dirty Little Secrets **

**PART I **

Chapter 1: Crimson

Charles tried desperately to avoid the eyes of the boy who'd just stepped through the door of Period 2 Biology. He hoped and prayed that he would not recognise him from the night before, and that he would simply slot himself in with the other tall, good-looking boys, that sat with their feet up on the back bench, blissfully unaware of little Charles- sitting in the front row. His heart had not stopped pounding out of his chest since the announcement that there would be a new boy joining the class. It couldn't be him; the guy from last night was hardly a school-age boy. _He was_… Charles sniggered as his mind recalled the incidents from the night before, and how, _ahem, un-childlike _they were. He felt the eyes of the back row lock onto him, and then the teachers, and then…Erik's. _Damn. Laughed out loud. Damn. _He felt a crimson blush rush to his face, and slowly looking up, his eyes met with the 'new' boy's.

"This is Erik Lehnsherr, boys, he's just joined us. Welcome, Erik". Professor Shaw recited, without even looking up from his lesson plan.

"Thank you, Sir, though I have already been welcomed most thoroughly." Erik replied, and flashed a broad grin towards the front desk, where Charles sat, turned away in embarrassment.

"All right, all right, just go sit down." Shaw said, ushering Erik to his natural place at the very back. Erik's rough fingertips trailed along Charles' shoulder as he passed. Nobody could have seen, but Charles cringed away, as though Erik's hand betrayed the events playing out in his mind, and that same careful touch of his hand the night before.

The other boys thumped Erik on the arm as he sat down between them, a few shook his hand, and one or two did that strange hand-shake-back-slap that Charles had never gotten the hang of. It was as if he'd known them forever. Charles had never felt part of the school. Yes-all the boys got on with him, respected him-to a degree- but he would never be one of the lads. They'd asked him to sit 'up the back' with them once, but he'd politely declined, knowing that he couldn't sit with those boys- even for one class- without either compromising his morals or pretending to be something he wasn't. This didn't make Charles dislike them, mainly because they were dull, and mostly didn't know when they were rude or offensive, and more often than not, they were just completely oblivious to life outside of their little group; it was just the way they were. They hadn't been offended by Charles' declination, a little taken aback, maybe- they found it hard to believe that anyone would rather be alone than sitting with them- but they accepted that Charles was what he was: the only nerd in school whose shoes they wouldn't take. They could never admit it, but part of their acceptance of Charles was more out of fear than respect. Charles was friendly, quiet, yet open, and always willing to help; but he was also intense. He was intelligent and they'd all seen him trick and manipulate teachers to achieve what was a flawless and untouchable school record. It was deserved. He worked for it and would not let himself be distracted. Charles didn't know if they understood, but they accepted it. And that was enough.

But now he was afraid, because Erik was dangerous, and knew some dangerous things about Charles. From what he'd gathered last night, Erik didn't seem like the kind of person who would be particularly concerned with the way he, or others, were perceived. Charles' heart was still going at a thousand beats a minute, and as Shaw began the class again, he tried desperately to concentrate on the work in front of him, rather than Erik, and what Erik was doing right now, if Erik was looking at him, the way Erik looked at him last night, everything, every corner of his mind taken up with Erik. _Erik…Erik…Erik…_

"Anyone going to answer?" Shaw tried, looking out at the class sitting before him, some daydreaming, others chatting. Charles, of course, belonged to the former group. Usually he would jump right in with the correct answer, once he'd given the others a chance to get there themselves. He didn't like to be arrogant. But on this occasion, he had to confess he hadn't even heard the question. Shaw's eyes met with his, questioningly. Shaw didn't like Charles, particularly, but he could always rely on him to participate in class, even when no one else did.

"No? Alright then boys, five minutes to recess" He mumbled at the boys as he packed his things into his brown satchel, slung it over his shoulder and made for the door "I'll see the Darwins in the Common Room"

Charles was a Darwin. It was a pleasant enough house, and honestly they spent little time in their common rooms other than for prep, but he hadn't been too pleased when he'd discovered that Shaw was this year's head of house. After Professor Hainsworth's shock passing last year, Shaw had stepped in, being the only other senior staff member in Darwin house. Of course, calling Shaw 'senior' was always strange-he was easily the youngest staff member and didn't look a whole lot older than the year 13 boys- but he _was _a Professor, and there were few at Blackmount.

Blackmount stood metres above the sea at the East Coast of England. Charles and his stepbrother Cain, and adopted sister Raven had moved there from their home in the states after their lives had fallen apart at the mercy of abuse, fire, and death. The three never spoke of it, and since Cain had left high school two years ago- Charles supposed he'd probably moved to London, or back to New York- he hardly had any contact with him at all. Charles and Raven got on much better, but the boys weren't permitted to visit the girls' school except on occasions such as Christmas, when the few kids who had no place to go- Charles hated the word orphan- joined for celebrations at Blackmount. Of course the teachers were more lax during this time- and Charles could pretty much come and go as he chose, so long as he was around for the festivities and back before the begin of the new term. So he wrote Raven letters instead, which usually arrived within the day, so communication was swift. On weekends they could use their phones and the two would call and text all day.

There were five houses at Blackmount: Darwin, the red house; Churchill, the yellow house; Shakespeare, the blue house; Hardy, the green house; and Newton, the black and white house. The five were not nearly as separate as the school might have liked and the dorms were arranged by age, rather than house. The only real difference was where you spent prep, the teachers you went to for assistance, and the colours that were on your tie. Charles' uniform was much too big, a second hand uniform that had been given to him upon arrival two year ago with the anticipation of growth. The junior years wore navy blazers, and pale blue shirts, and the senior boys wore black blazers with navy shirts. Trousers were navy or black depending on age, and the ties corresponded with house and position within the school. Charles' trousers hung well below his ankles, trailing in the grass and mud and thoroughly ripped. He had to wear a thick black belt to hold them up. The other boys all wore their trousers fitted, black dress shoes pointing out beneath neat hems. Charles' shirts weren't tight and flattering like the others', rather, thin and bunchy. They rose up and bulked at the waist line, and his blazer sleeves were so long that when rolled down they dusted his knuckles. His uniform was every part the orphan.

Though uniform was strict at Blackmount, during the first term they could usually get away with non-regulation items-due to the chill- so long as they looked presentable. He wore a thigh length black coat, rather than the blazer when around the school. It had been Cain's, but it had remained, along with his massive school uniform, bed linen, textbooks and stationery, in his dorm when he left, and naturally they'd been given to Charles as there was nowhere else they could be sent. Cain hadn't left an address or any means of contact. The waist tie meant the coat fitted well, and disguised the messy waistline his shirt and trousers created. He wore a navy knit V-neck jumper on colder days, and that held the masses of fabric down nicely. His navy blue and red striped scarf hung loosely about his neck, and held in the hair at the nape of his neck that was getting far longer than he would've liked. One thing that could be said of Charles is that he could always make the very best out of a dreadful situation.

The boys filtered out of the classroom as Charles rounded up the last of the things on his desks. Erik was amongst the crowd, being welcomed into the boys' strange world of social discourse: talking loudly over one another and slapping each other hard on the back, laughter roaring and echoing down the high stone corridors. When the ringing of their voices had finally died down, Charles grabbed the rest of his books and made for the door. As he looked up, he noticed the tall figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed over a stack of books.

"Erik." Charles gasped, and dropped the books he had not yet managed to shove into his satchel. He'd gone for nonchalance, but it came out raspy, aching, almost. _Shit. _Erik's smile only broadened. He had a seemingly endless row of perfect white teeth, and when he smiled creases formed around his eyes and mouth. His eyes were a beautiful deep blue, but with sparkles of green. _Not dull and bland like mine. _He let his eyes trail down Erik's frame, the strong lines of his jaw-where the deceivingly mature auburn stubble dusted his chin in the morning light-his neck and chest, the sweep of his legs and _oh god. _Charles gulped hard and with great effort brought his eyes back to meet Erik's. Erik chuckled lightly at the effect he had on Charles, and the irony of Charles' shyness.

"You left so early this morning" Erik sighed, his thumb pushing a strand of Charles' hair behind his ear, and lingering there. Charles inhaled swiftly again and took a step back from Erik.

"I had to er, sneak back into school this er morning, but that's no important" Charles mumbled staring at Erik's shoes with stony eyes. He took a deep breath in: "What are you doing here, Erik?"

"I just moved, I told you that." Erik said, the smile on his face fading, just slightly.

"I thought you were like twenty!" Charles gushed, his hands trembling and blood pumping in his ears. He was angry at Erik, though he knew he had no right to be.

"Oh, and that's your excuse? That makes it better?" Erik retorted, eyes boring into Charles' head.

"Can we just forget this happened?" Charles mumbled, bending down to pick up the books still lying between them. Erik watched Charles for a moment, looking so beautifully vulnerable beneath him, before kneeling to help him.

"That's not fair." Erik said, searching for Charles' eyes beneath the wisps of hair that had fallen before his eyes. "Charles you can't shrug me off like this, not after last night" As he spoke he slipped his fingers around Charles' wrist and gripped lightly, smiling at Charles- who was still fumbling aimlessly with the last of the books. As soon as Erik finished the sentence Charles' head snapped up, and he tugged his hand from Erik's. He stood up, wordlessly swinging his bag over his shoulder, and reached for the door.

Erik was too quick for him. He effortlessly caught the door between two fingers before Charles could open it properly. And once again grabbing Charles' wrist, he shimmied along the frame so his back leant against the door and slammed it shut. He tugged on Charles' arms lightly and he fell against Erik's chest with a dull thump. Erik's breath was heavy against Charles' forehead and he could feel Erik's stubble graze against his face, the way it had last night. Erik still smelt musky, and manly, and Charles doubted that he'd even showered. _This is too much. _Charles inhaled deeply, and then with all his courage, peeled away from the taller boy.

"No, Erik, this_ is_ fair. Last night meant nothing, and you knew it. I owe you _nothing_" His voice trembled slightly, but he pushed past Erik with purpose and stormed off down the hall. Erik's smell was still thick in his nostrils and in the morning air he thought he could almost still taste him on his tongue.

...

Erik slid down the classroom door. The old oak was harsh on his back, but he didn't care. He was exhausted. And alone; he was surrounded by so many people, but so, so alone. He cradled his head in his hand for a few moments, and then, with a sharp intake of breath pushed himself up off the floor and made his way down the corridor. _He'll give in yet. Not soon. But he will. _And he chuckled to himself, feeling significantly comforted that he knew a dirty little secret about the schools star pupil, and he would use it. _If I even have to…_

_..._

Charles swung back the crimson velvet curtains that hung before the sixth form area of the Darwin common room. There were a few chairs, but it was well known within the house that Charles sat there every prep, to study in peace. If anyone ever joined him, they too had to sit in silence or risk one of Charles' metallic stares. He exhaled as he saw his leather arm chair empty, as usual. He kicked off his shoes, and tossed a quickly lit match from the box in his pocket into the large iron cast fireplace. Blackmount always had enough dry wood for fires; the stone walls meant it could get cold very quickly, especially during the winter months. He set the brass alarm clock on the mantel piece for three hours- the minimum evening prep time for sixth formers - and once sitting back in the chair with his feet on the low mahogany table, pulled his satchel onto his lap, removing the biology books from the morning's class and opening them to the relevant pages. Usually Charles found genetics interesting, but today he couldn't focus his mind on it. It constantly strayed back to Erik. The emotional investment Charles had made in the stranger was unreal. He wasn't usually like this. _And the first day of term isn't even over yet. _Erik would be here till the end of the year. There was no changing that. All he could do was keep his head down and try his best to shut out any feelings regarding the tall, beautiful, stranger. Charles let his imagination swallow him once again, and it wasn't until the harsh clang of brass woke him that he even realised he'd gone to sleep, and that he'd wasted the whole of prep. _What a start to the year. _He threw aside his books and nestled into the armchair, maybe he could just curl up here, and never venture out into the corridors, where he would be victim to those wonderfully wicked, all- knowing eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Hard

Charles awoke in front of the fireplace the next morning with a refreshed sense of optimism. It seemed to him that he could keep his distance from Erik, quite easily, seeing as their friendship groups- or lack thereof - varied so dramatically. He would simply avoid sitting close to, catching the eye of or speaking to Erik. Easy enough. He stretched his legs, threw them back over the side of the chair from where they were tucked up against the arm rest, and slipped his feet into his shoes. He'd have to sneak back to his dorm as quietly as possible- most of the teachers really wouldn't mind if Charles were out in the corridors in the early morning because he'd fallen asleep whilst studying, Shaw however (whose bedroom was directly adjacent to the Darwin common rooms) would not be so kind. The curtains slipped aside silently, and Charles eased himself through as narrow an opening as possible, so as not to risk making a sound. He kept his head down as he passed Shaw's room, tiptoeing across the stone floor. _Shit. _Charles felt himself collide with a cold chest. _Fuckshitbollocksfuck. _He cursed silently, and hardly dared to look up. He lifted his eyes, marginally, only to see _Erik_ looking down at him with the expression of a small child found taking sweets from the kitchen. A moment of relief passed through him, and then paranoia, of the two of them being found here-especially by Shaw.

"What the_ FUCK_ are you doing out here?" Charles whispered through gritted teeth, pushing Erik up against the cold brick wall, a hand twisted in his thin t-shirt. "It is hours before wake-up!" Erik said nothing and Charles pushing his clenched fist up against Erik's neck.

"All right, all right" Erik hissed "I'm sneaking back into the dorms. One could ask the same of you!" A moment of silence passed between them and Charles looked at Erik with confusion. Then slowly, the pennies began to drop. Hard. On his head.

"You were in Shaw's room?"

Erik nodded.

"_With _him?"

Erik neither said a word, nor nodded. He just stood before Charles, looking for all the world like he'd somehow betrayed him. Charles gulped. Hard. He released his grip on the taller boy and took a step backwards.

"I guess, um. That's your business." Erik still said nothing "I won't tell."

"Of course you fucking won't," The apologetic look in Erik's eye had vanished "or I'll tell all them," -He flipped his messy auburn hair towards the dorm rooms-"what a massive fag you are. Got it?" and had been replaced by burning anger. There was a silence again, and ducking his head, Charles passed Erik. He could hear Erik following close behind, but he picked up his pace and did not turn around once, not even when he'd closed his dorm room door silently behind him. He made straight for the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. He exhaled, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts, and stripping down to his boxers climbed into bed.

"Late night rendezvous again Xavier?" Came the voice from the other bed.

"Sorry Alex, did I wake you?" Charles said, trying not to panic and focusing on being as normal as possible.

"Nah, I wasn't asleep anyway." Alex Summers waved a hand dismissively. Alex was beautiful, but not quite Charles' type. He was blonde, and blue-eyed, but perhaps a little baby-faced which was mildly off-putting. Charles hoped for Alex's sake that he didn't get too close with Lehnsherr- he seemed to like boys that looked younger than him- or maybe he just wasn't picky. Then Charles remembered the events of just five minutes ago, and thought the latter was much more likely. "What d'you think of that new kid?" Alex asked, clearly Charles wasn't going to get any more sleep.

"Alright, I guess, I don't know him well enough to say." Charles muttered, tucking himself under the covers, facing Alex's bed on the other side of the room. Alex and Charles had shared a dorm since Charles had arrived, and rather than being annoyed at having to share, Alex was glad to have a little company- he'd been the only one without a roommate- and now he always had homework help on hand. Alex was the only boy at the school, before Erik's arrival, that knew of Charles' night time escapades. He never told, so long as Charles took him along on occasion- Charles couldn't believe Alex was naïve enough to think that he was taking him to the same places he went when he was alone- and bought him fags on weekends. Most of the boys smoked, and Charles was fairly sure the school knew about it, but as with most things: If it wasn't seen, it didn't happen. Alex kept the cigarette stash in his desk, but since Charles always paid for them, he was free to take them when he needed. Charles wasn't _addicted _as such, but it tasted nice and he looked good doing it. He also relished the secret rebellion. Their room was much barer than the other boys', who all had posters of naked girls and bands plastered over the walls, Alex had one picture of Queen above his bed, and Charles had hung up a bookshelf, which held all his books, awards and his school scarf when it was too warm to wear it. Alex's desk was always a mess, he never cleared his books away, he just swept the entire mess into his bag at the start of the day, and then tipped the contents of the bag onto the desk again when they got back in. Charles' desk had two piles, one of textbooks, the other of exercise books. There was a neat row of stationery in pencil pots and desk organisers behind the microscope he never had the time to use. All in all, the room was pleasant and aside from really needing the time alone in the common room, Charles quite enjoyed having Alex as a roommate.

"Really?" Alex looked confused "Weird." He didn't dwell on it, and begun to wriggle back under the covers. Charles, however, was now very interested indeed.

"What do you mean?" He asked, flipping his sheets back and perching himself at the end of Alex's bed.

"I don't know, I'm pretty sure he said he already knew you." Alex shrugged, he'd lost all interest. Charles began to panic, his life would be _over _if the others found out about him. He couldn't let this happen.

"What? Really? How? Did he say how he knew me?" Charles gushed, his volume rising as his bloods ran faster through his veins.

"Look, I can't remember, could you just let it go?" Alex insisted, and turned to the door, footsteps could be heard loudly outside. "Oh _shit. _Nice one Charles!" Alex rolled his eyes, and turned off his light, lying down and faking a snore. "You're dealing with that!" He whispered viciously, a finger emerging from the mess of sheets and pointing at the door, where loud knocks could now be heard. He got up from the bed, and swung his dressing gown over his shoulders. He already knew who'd be behind the door, but took a sharp intake of breath when Shaw stood in the door frame, glaring down at Charles.

"Mr. Xavier, it was no doubt you that I heard outside my room arguing with Mr. Lehnsherr?" He said with firmness, clearly not the least panicked that Charles new about his affiliation with a student. A _male _student. At the girls' school, every couple of years a case like this would crop up, but at the boys' school? Never. Or maybe they hid it a whole lot better.

"Yes." Charles said quietly staring at his bare feet, toes clawed to the stone beneath him.

"Well then" He looked past Charles, eyeing the lump of blankets where Alex lay suspiciously, and closed the door behind Charles. "You clearly know some things about me I'd rather you didn't. But unfortunately for you, it cuts both ways." He was calm and collected, though not as snide and Charles was used to, and it pleased him that he had a hold on Shaw.

"Yes, sir." Charles said, looking up to find Shaw flinch away from his glare. Shaw reached behind Charles and swung the door open again.

"Good. Now try to get an hours rest before biology." With that he spun on his heels, and walked down the corridor. Though not to his room.

Charles stuck his head around the corner, to see where he'd gone, but before an all too familiar hand pulled Shaw inside the room; Shaw's eyes flicked to Charles and silently mouthed the words: _I'm on to you. _The door slammed closed, and Charles realised that Erik must now be in the spare room two doors down from his. Alone. He was involuntarily pleased at the thought, but then remembering that it was Shaw he would be spending the nights with in there. He gagged and only just made it to the toilet in time. He threw up three times, each time coughing violently. He wiped his mouth and leant against the sink. He saw the light flick on, and Alex was standing in the bathroom door frame.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Alex said, looking at Charles sympathetically, a hand running through his messy blonde hair. Charles shook his head but then opened his mouth to speak.

"Shaw knows. No more going out." He spluttered. He obviously couldn't give two shits about whether he could sneak out again or not. But this excuse seemed to suit Alex enough, who huffed and muttered on his way back to bed.

Charles knew the day would come when meaningless sex would no longer be meaningless, but of all the people to fall head over heels for, _why Erik?_ And now Erik was with Shaw. Well, probably not romantically. But they were fucking. And there was nothing Charles could do. Except sit alone in his bathroom, throwing up every time he heard the squeak of a bed echo in the tall stone corridors.

…

Charles felt the hands of boys slapping him on the back as he walked into Period 1 Bio. To be honest, he looked like shit, he could understand why they must have thought he was hung-over. Only Erik, sitting in the back row, a single point of focus in the blur of faces surrounding him saw right through his tired eyes, and calmly looked into his very core. There was nothing apologetic in his look now, and it occurred to Charles that back in the classroom, just yesterday, Erik had been sorry. But now he was proving, better than anyone could, that he did not _owe Charles anything. _The realisation lay thick on Charles' face, and Erik nodded solemnly in agreement. When Shaw entered there was another face that looked disapprovingly at Charles, as if Charles' strange behaviour would somehow implicate him. What _was_ incriminating, however, were the lingering looks he gave Erik. Charles felt sick again whenever he looked up to check the work on the board and caught Erik and Shaw exchanging glances. The lesson passed slowly, much too slowly, and like yesterday, Charles couldn't get his head around the work he usually found so simple. Erik didn't stay behind after class, not that Charles really wanted him to, nor did he even look at him as he passed. He avoided Charles' eyes as they passed each other in the corridor. When Charles held the door open for him as the hoard of boys stormed into the dorm blocked he went so far as to look the other way.

In this moment, Charles didn't care what Shaw had said last night. It didn't matter now. _As if he'd even hear me sneaking out. He's too busy __**fucking**__ a fucking student. _Charles had the urge to get drunk and do things he'd regret. And if Shaw found out, so be it. Blackmail did _indeed '_cut both ways'.

…

Charles took a shower, shaved and sprayed way too much cologne. He stood in front of his cupboard, eyeing the rows and rows of expensive shirts and trousers hung neatly but not seeing what he wanted. Finally he settled on a fitted grey shirt, but none of his smart trousers seemed to cut it. He turned around,

"Hey, Alex," Alex looked up from his textbook. "Do you think I could borrow some trousers?" He said, casually hoping Alex wouldn't want to join him tonight.

"Yeah, sure mate, help yourself" He said, closing the books on his lap. "But, I thought you couldn't go out anymore? What about Shaw?" He opened his cupboard for Charles and leant against the bedframe.

"Fuck him." Charles announced, flipping through Alex's jeans. _Too pale, too baggy, too short. _He really couldn't have Alex with him tonight, but for good measure, he asked anyway.

"Um, Alex, did you want to come with me?" He said, as nonchalantly as possible.

"Nah, it's alright mate, can't risk it." Alex shrugged and lay back on his bed. Inaudibly, Charles breathed a sigh of relief. He finally found the black skinny jeans he was looking for and slipped them on. Alex was only slightly taller than Charles, but even so the fabric gathered at his ankles and knees, and clung tightly to his thighs and calves. He hastily tucked his shirt into the jeans and slung one of his leather belts around the keep them up. He pushed a fifty and two tens into his coat pocket and put on his coat. Alex had already opened the window, so Charles swung one leg over ready to launch himself onto the grass.

"Janos and Azazel are still up, Charles" Alex called to Charles. Janos and Azazel had the dorm next to his, and they often stayed up late. Janos and Azazel were close with Alex, and probably Erik now, Charles guessed. He always had to sneak below their window to avoid them.

"Thanks Alex, see you tomorrow." Charles whispered and dropped himself from the window. He crept along the side of the school. The grass was damp, and he could feel it sticking to his jeans. He knew from experience that creeping along the gravel that ran underneath the windows would get him noticed, so he stuck to the grass, the autumn rain soaking his jeans. As he snuck along he became aware of that he was now under Erik's window. He couldn't help but wonder if Shaw was in there with him. The light was on and shone warmly through the white curtains covering the windows. Of course Erik could get away with staying up past lights out. When Charles reached the main drive, he walked alongside the bushes lining the grey gravel as he always did. It crunched beneath his converses and the bushes grazed his arms. He couldn't step any further out for fear of the lanterns lighting his frame. It was a short distance to the village where the taxi ranks were. He always had to catch a cab into town-the bus driver would report a student out of hours without a permit- which was expensive but he wasn't exactly badly off. And being the older of him and Raven, and after Cain disappearing he took care of finances and so on. The village was quiet this late, and only one silver taxi was parked in the bays. The newsagent was still open and the old man that owned it stood behind the counter, chewing a piece of gum and reading the paper as he always did. Charles bought Alex's cigarettes as he always did without speaking to the shop owner. Charles was grateful for the lack of questions and knowing silence of the man, who had seen Charles both prim and proper in his school uniform, and late at night-drunk-with a much older man hanging about his neck. Not once did they exchange words and it seemed to Charles that this was perhaps the only person who knew the extent of his double life. Sure, Erik, Shaw, Raven and Alex all knew snippets, but Charles was very careful never to allow their various impressions to collide. As Charles slipped into the backseat of the cab he eyes the motel at the end of the high street. He was very careful never to go that far down the street whenever he was out with his schoolmates. He frowned as he pictured the night ahead of him. In that motel, with a handsome stranger he'd likely never see again.

"Where to, Casanova?" The cab driver called around the screen. Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

"Very funny, let's go, please." He said, looking out of the window. He knew he didn't even really enjoy these encounters anymore, but anything that would make him forget being trapped in that god-awful school. It didn't take more than twenty minutes on the deserted roads out of the village before the driver dropped Charles off outside his regular bar. The air was thick with the promise of rain but none had fallen since the few drops earlier that day that had already collected in little groves on the pavement. The line outside the bar was short, since it was already late. Charles flashed Cain's ID that he kept in his jacket pocket at the door and the guard simply nodded and ushered Charles through. The bar was full, as it always was, and the lights were beating down red on the writhing bare chests on the small dance floor. The heat hit Charles as he walked around the crowd towards the bar. He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the back of a bar chair. He recognised Angel behind the bar. She was petite, tanned and had beautiful black hair that swung in front of her brow went she wiped down the bars. Charles imagined she must be 'hot', she certainly had a fiery nature, but all that was wasted in this bar. She waved at him casually and set his usual rum and coke in front of him. He smiled and ran a hand around the glass. As he spun around he almost felt as if he could see Erik in the crowd again, smiling broadly, hair clinging to his forehead. He surveyed the boys, dancing so beautifully, but no face stood out the way Erik's had. He gulped down the last of his first drink and pushed it behind him onto the bar. Before he turned around to reach it, he felt the cool glass being pressed into his clammy hand.

"There you go, sunshine." A gruff voice breathed beside him, a sweaty arm pressed against his. The man was tall, he wasn't thin, and his grey hair was dyed over bright blonde. He was at least in his late thirties. _Midlife crisis. _

"Thanks." Charles replied coldly, looking away from the man. _The first is never the best. _

"Jheez, man, I'm not a perv" The man garbled at Charles, trying desperately to catch Charles' disapproving glare again. "My mate over there wants to say hi." He pointed a stubby finger across the floor where a tan, brown-haired youth was dancing. _Topless. _

His hair stuck up awkwardly from the sweat accumulating in his brow. And Charles could see drips running down his neck and thin but perfectly formed chest. His chest was beautifully familiar; it had the same muscular frame as Erik's. _Stop, Charles. _He tried to shake the memories and took a firm swig from his glass. The boy was much more perfect than Erik-he had no spark-but he grinned sweetly when he caught Charles' eye before being swept back into the crowd by grabbing hands. Charles watched him for another three songs, downing drinks impulsively. When his head felt warm from the alcohol, and only then, the older man nudged him from his chair, give him a wink and pushed him towards the crowd.

The music got louder as Charles wormed his way through the masses of people all trying to get a touch of the beautiful boy grinding against any hips that crushed themselves up against him. Charles found himself sliding into the inner circle of dancers easily, the boys around him keen for a grope of him now, too. Charles swayed on his feet and was thankful for the taller men rippling their bodies up against him for support. He leant back onto the broad chest behind him and ran a hand through his damp hair. The brown-haired boy locked his eyes with his and let go of the man he was dancing with. Charles looked away, shyly, knowing the tricks all too well. He turned to face the man he was grinding with but in his drunken haze couldn't note his face. Lean arms locked around his waist, and a jean-clad crotch was pushing against the curve of his arse. Charles tipped his head back, allowing it to fall onto the shoulder of the boy behind him, who, up close, was only a head taller than Charles. He spun around in the man's grip and clasped his fingers around his shoulders. He ground back against him, allowing their foreheads to meet. The other boy hissed lightly as Charles attempted to lean up to catch his lips, and led him off the dance floor by his wrist. Hands were still grappling at the pair of them as Charles felt his feet almost fall from underneath him, but the crowd parted none the less, the other boy receiving a few congratulatory pats on the back. The older man from the bar was waiting by the door with Charles' coat and thrust it at him as the two of them broke into the cold night air.

Charles was a little confused by the older man's involvement in this hook-up, having always done it alone he was at a loss as to why you'd need moral support at such an occasion, but he shrugged the thought off and allowed his hands to slip around the stranger's waist.

Charles could remember hardly any of the cab drive back to the motel, the name of which he'd only just managed to burst out before the beautiful youth's mouth reached for his. He was much more vicious that Charles would've guessed from looking at him. He tugged at Charles' lip hard, _uhh Erik. _Charles had tried to forget Erik for tonight- heaven knows that was the whole purpose _in _tonight_- _but everything about the boy either served as a reminder of, or caused Charles to compare him to, Erik. His clouded mind thought that maybe if he knew this man's name it would be easier to distinguish. Charles pushed them apart, with great difficulty. He gasped for breath.

"What's your name?" Charles managed, before lips attacked his neck.

"Whatever you need it to be." The boy replied, making his way down Charles' chest. Charles' back stiffened in the seat as the boy fumbled with Charles' layers. A knock at the divider tore the two from each other.

"We're here, get out." The cab driver said, a hand reaching for the cash. Charles pushed the fifty into his hand and pulled the boy from the cab. The motel lobby was bright, and Charles' drunken eyes squinted at the lady behind the counter. She was addressing them, he knew that much, but he couldn't make out the words. There was some conversation going on between the receptionist and his company, but he didn't listen. As far as he was concerned it was his turn to pay. He had paid for the cab. The boy fumbled in his wallet and managed to pay, just, and snatched the key from the lady, pushing Charles into the elevator. The elevator smelt of stale carpet, like it always did and the cheap lights provided a most unflattering light. Charles clung to his face so as not to have to look at him, and notice he wasn't Erik. The more he pushed their lips together the more it felt like it had the time before. The elevator binged to signify that they'd reached the right floor and Charles' vision was far too blurred to see the other boy struggle with the lock. He slammed the key against it multiple times, missing every time. Eventually the door slammed open and Charles was pushed against the wall with a brutal force. The throbbing in the back of his head combined with the dull persistence of the alcohol to impede his motion made the situation more and more redolent of his night with Erik. The boy made his way down Charles' chest again, pulling apart the buttons with every movement. His belt clicked open and the boy's wet mouth was around his cock. Charles thrust forward, desperate for some movement, the boy's mouth strained to accommodate him and the back of his throat convulsed beautifully around his length.

"Erik," Charles whispered. The boy looked up and smiled greedily around Charles' dick.

"Yes," He replied, between sliding up and down Charles. "I'm Erik."

Charles closed his eyes and felt Erik's wide mouth around him, his long eyelashes fluttering in the space below his belly button. He felt Erik's strong hands gripping his arse, and let himself be completely consumed with _Erik._


	3. Chapter 3

**Just to clear a few things up:**

I don't usually like writing notes at the top of chapters, but I felt it was necessary to mention that there are **no powers or mutations **in this AU. References to metal-bending or telepathy are for: a) characterisation purposes, b) in the case of telepathy, to re-create the bond, or c) for your entertainment. Any other questions or updates will be addressed under the X-Men heading in my profile.

Happy reading…

Chapter 3: Guilt

Charles didn't shower before he left the motel. He didn't want to risk waking the sleeping boy up, and besides he had to get back into school. His shirt was well and truly destroyed and after trying to put it on in some dignified way he tossed it back onto the floor and just closed his jacket over his bare chest. He pulled on Alex's jeans, which - thankfully - weren't ruined. But they did smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol, so Charles decided he'd have to take a trip to the laundry this afternoon, before returning them. He scooped up his shoes and made his way out into the hallway. He took one last look at the blissfully asleep young man, a pang of guilt shuddered through him, but he shrugged it off and closed the door silently. The elevator couldn't arrive quickly enough and Charles pushed the button nervously, anxious to get out of town. The silver cab was waiting for him, as it did every Saturday. The cab driver grinned at Charles through the rear-view mirror, and Charles did his very best to ignore him as he slipped on his shoes, looking tiredly out of the window.

It had rained again over night, and Blackmount looked almost beautiful in the dusty light of dawn, with the raindrops on the windows catching the pink light and reflecting it across the lawn. The black and grey stones were dull canvases for the myriad of colours reflecting off their surface. Alex had left the window open- thank god- before heading to breakfast. He dumped his clothes into a laundry bag and made a mental note to take them with him when he went to the common room.

The water ran down over his head, cold water scraping at the bruises he'd sustained. His neck was marked, and the soap stung the fresh cuts. He lifted his head and let his mouth fall open, catching a lung full of cold air. He rubbed the soap vigorously, gritting his teeth through the pain, before feeling-finally- completely clean. With a towel wrapped around his waist he flipped through the books on his desk, deciding what to study today. He decided on history, and opened the desk to find a new notebook. As he reached in his fingers scraped the old chess board. He hadn't touched it since he got here, and it felt as though the guilt of the origins of the set burnt through his palm. He shut the desk quickly and dropped his books on his bed. Grabbing the first jumper and pair of jeans he saw, and slipping on his shoes at the door, he made his way out of his dorm with the bag of laundry and books.

The laundry room was in the lowest part of the school - what used to be the dungeons - and the staircases leading down were right next to the curtained entrance to the Darwin common rooms. Charles dropped his books on top of one of the washing machines and started loading his things into another. It wasn't long before he noticed someone standing next to him. He turned to see Erik, leaning against the washing machine and flicking through the books Charles had left there. Charles exhaled. _I can't forget you if you won't leave me alone._

"Erik, what do you want?" Charles breathed, pulling a slow hand across his face. Erik's black turtleneck was tight across his chest, and in his morning sobriety he could see that the guy from last night was nowhere near as beautiful. Erik's auburn hair was combed to the side, and still a little wet. He ran a hand through his hair and turned to face Charles, shutting the book and playing with it nervously as he spoke.

"Just thought I'd say hi, you know." He put the book down and took a step towards Charles.

"I think we're beyond that, Erik." Charles said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I thought we'd reached an agreement."

"We didn't reach an agreement." Erik replied firmly. "You decided: I had no say in the matter."

"Don't play that card on me." Charles looked down, and tugged on his clothes nervously, his anger ebbing away. "You didn't seem too sad about it."

Erik exhaled exaggeratedly, wanting Charles to hear his annoyance; he spun around and made for the door. Charles watched him stride away before turning back to shut the machine and turn it on. Only a few seconds had passed before strong fingers wrapped around his wrist and spun him around, just inches from Erik's face. In the small space Charles could just about make out Erik's features: his eyes dark with anger; his angular nose, almost touching his; and the messy, unshaven hairs around angrily pursed lips. Charles glared at Erik, and Erik glared in return. _Just a little closer. _The space between them would be all too easy to close, and the gentle swaying of both their bodies almost betrayed the desires of both parties. Erik broke off-dropping Charles' arm and taking a step back, his head falling to his chest. He looked saddened by the rift between them, as if he were somehow to blame for this mess.

"Look, Charles" Erik began insistently, those perfect eyes emerging between strands of hair "I'm sorry, I am. But I'm. You know, I'm"

"Spit it out, Erik." Charles shouted, trying to attain the upper hand.

"I'm lonely. " Erik yelled, the words didn't fit his expression; Charles wanted to believe his eyes, not his ears. He wanted desperately to think that Erik was lying, that Erik wasn't lonely: he just wanted a cheap fuck. Charles frowned at the thought, replayed Erik's words in his head, and then burst into laughter.

"Lonely? Are you kidding? You're going to tell me about lonely?" Charles took a step towards Erik and continued gushing into his face. "You're fucking joking! You've been here a week and you've got more friends than anyone else in this damn school. You know shit about lonely."

Erik nodded solemnly in response, he bowed again. He looked ashamed, embarrassed that he'd attempted to make that excuse. But something about him still looked truthful. He was so damn hard to_ read_. He ignored his sympathies, took a breath and continued at Erik.

"And don't even _speak_ to me when you've been. Been…" He stuttered. "Been in.." His voice trailed off, he still couldn't get his head around what Erik was _doing_.

"Spit it out, Charles." Erik mocked, exaggerating Charles' perfect RP English, still not looking up from the floor.

"You can't be lonely." Charles stated. "Don't tell me that shit when you've…" His voice faded again, he'd lost the energy to yell at Erik.

"Been_ in_ Shaw?" Erik's head flicked up and he eyed Charles sarcastically. "Well, Charles, judging by the state of your neck, and the deceiving limp to your walk, you have absolutely NO room to talk." Erik was right; he didn't have any room to talk. The irony behind the fact that they were both lonely, and wanted one another was almost funny, except for the fact that it was heartbreaking. Charles felt the guilt, again. Every time it washed over him it was equally painful and equally blinding. He stared at Erik's angrily furrowed brows for what could have been hours, watching them soften slowly, almost unnoticeably. Finally, Charles swallowed: remembering that he was more than just lonely in _that_ way. He was away from everything he knew. He was kept apart from Raven. His dad was long gone; his mother was gone now too. He truly had no one- no one to confide in, other than that stupid man at the newsagents, no one knew the true him. All he had left was a _fucking_ chess set which he couldn't even use. He_ was_ alone. Swallowing his guilt and desires, he grabbed his books and walked past Erik, who just stood staring at the place Charles had stood just seconds before.

"Charles." Erik said-his voice soft and calm. Almost a purr, that Charles found terribly addictive.

"It's no good Erik," Charles replied, shaking his head. "We're no good for each other." He turned, finally making his way up the stairs, tears fighting their way from his tightly clenched eyes.

The common room was basically empty- most of the boys were still at breakfast- and no one approached Charles. _Thank god. _He fished his mobile phone out of his pigeon hole, and made his way to the fireplace. The dialled Raven's number hastily, brushing the tears messily from his face. She picked up after the second ring.

"Charles!" She began, "I've had simply the best week you could imagine, I've been put in the upper stream for maths, and science, you'd be so proud"

"Wow, Raven, that's great" Charles interrupted, still sniffling. Raven immediately stopped.

"Charles?" She asked, tentatively. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Raven, I. Well, you know. Boy troubles." Charles mumbled, trying to keep his voice down.

"What?" Raven screeched, gleefully, "There's a boy at school you like?" He could hear the smile in her voice and it was painful to hear.

"No, no. I mean, it's complicated." Charles said. He really didn't want to speak about Erik anymore. He'd much rather hear about Raven's grades, or the antics her friends got up to, or hot new teachers, or anything, really. "Please, let's talk about something else."

"Alright." She said, sceptically. There was a moment's silence before she began talking again at lightning speed- which Charles was grateful for. "Is that new boy in your year? Rumour has it he's gorgeous! How old is he? Do you think he'd like me? Is he tall? Mmm, I have a thing for hands. What are his like?"

"Raven, Raven!" Charles butted in, having to raise his voice much louder than he normally would in order to get her attention. Sometimes he thought Raven wouldn't even notice if he just hung up. "You have to let me answer your questions before you shoot another fifteen out at once."

"Yes." She agreed, calming herself. "Go ahead."

"He's in my year, yes. I hardly know him though." He replied, trying to hide his anger at what the topic of conversation had spun back to.

"That's it?" She shrieked. "Charles! You interrupted me for that?! What's he _like?_"

"He's fine." Charles swallowed. "Tall, good-looking, kind of intimidating, and _great_ hands" He tried to smile as best he could, Raven could always tell from his voice how he was feeling.

"And…is he nice?" She bubbled up, trying to contain her excitement.

"He's fine" Charles said, again. "But he's not for you. I mean, I wouldn't want you involved with him."

"Oh, I see." She got always got impatient so quickly, her voice was short and snippy "Is he too good for me? Or do you just want him for yourself?" Charles didn't reply-he didn't know what to say; _Was_ he being possessive over Erik? Or was just that something about him made him terribly uneasy? He would like to think that he didn't want Raven to get hurt, but he knew it wasn't entirely true. What was true was that there was something about Erik, a quality that he wouldn't want in a boyfriend for Raven, but was completely irresistible to him.

"Oh, Raven." Charles laughed, lightly. "I hardly think he'd be interested."

…

The excuse was simple, and even Charles believed it for a second. Erik wasn't gay. But he knew that wasn't completely true. Even if Erik was just letting off steam with Shaw, he _had_ tried to pursue Charles afterwards. He didn't know why things had turned out this way and why it was so complicated now. He knew he liked Erik, but there was something infuriating about him. He was hot-headed, strong, and quixotic; the complete opposite of Charles. He now understood that opposites attract, but he couldn't accept that it would ever work out. He and Erik were destined for destruction, it didn't matter if it came now or in a few months, all he was doing was stopping it before anyone got hurt.

Come to think of it, he was just like Raven. But_ more_. It was probably the attractive qualities that they shared that forced him, against his better wishes, to love them both. _No. God, Charles, you DON'T love Erik._

Why did he keep having to remind himself that?

…

It was weeks before Erik and Charles spoke again, and truth be told Charles was thankful that it was only Biology that he and Erik had together. Charles took Biology, Literature, Psychology and French. He hadn't wanted to take French, but he was already fluent in Italian and Spanish, and languages were easy, so he'd only had the choice between French and German. Erik studied Biology, Physics, Specialist Maths, and German. It had taken- embarrassingly- a couple of days for Charles to work out that Erik actually was German; the accent was easy to hear, but hard to place and he didn't look at all like the stereotype. Erik was intelligent, it was turning out, it seemed he was the only one in his circle that truly was, though his intelligence was more practical working knowledge of the world, rather than Charles' broad theoretical understanding. Charles would often see him in the workshops, working late on something or other, long after his friends had settled into their seats in Azazel and Janos' dorm room, chatting so loudly that Charles couldn't work next door. There was a courtyard between the Science block and the main building, where the dorm rooms and common rooms were. As autumn rolled in, Charles sat out in the cloisters often, reading, or studying, and relishing the cool, crisp air in his lungs. The fireplace seemed much warmer when he'd been outside for a while. He could see very little of the workshop from his place, but he caught glimpses of Erik's hands whittling at some wood, fidgeting with a circuit board, or more impressively, bending a sheet of metal. Erik initially hadn't noticed Charles sitting there; when he did he looked away, and worked on something at the other side of the workshop. Charles didn't want any kind of contact with Erik, it was true, but he couldn't help watching him, admiring him. As time went on - the chill got more biting, and the brown leaves fell from the mangled black trees in the courtyard, covering Charles' feet in an ombre blanket- Erik got more comfortable with Charles sitting there. He began to work by the window again, and on occasion Charles could feel his eyes flicking up and watching him read. He didn't move, but Charles was sure Erik could see the way he stretched his neck, and pushed his hair back, just for him. He imagined Erik laughing, rolling his eyes, like he had at the club, laughing off Charles' attempts at flirting. He usually could, as his weekends proved, but Erik just did something to him. He made him nervous. These days he didn't go out nearly as much as he used to, and that wasn't just because it had gotten too cold, though he _wanted _to believe that was the only reason. It gradually became routine that Erik would work by the window, Charles sit on his usual and they would subtly watch one another. Charles knew Erik watched him, and Erik knew Charles watched him. They both knew that the other knew they were watching, and they both knew that too. It was three weeks before they smiled at one another, As Charles packed his things, and slung his satchel over his shoulder, Erik looked up, their eyes met and the corner of Charles' mouth lifted. Erik returned a broad sharkish grin. It became a new element of their routine. After five weeks Charles stopped leaving before Erik. They walked into the block together, in silence, heads down, so a stranger may even think that they had just fallen into step by coincidence. There was something about Erik, something that was just _magnetic._

Some nights Charles saw Erik heading into Shaw's room. Some nights he heard angry thumps from the adjacent room when he sat in the evening silence in front of the gently crackling fireplace. Some nights he was pleased to see Erik asleep-on his own, in his bed, his eyebrows knotted together in what couldn't have been a peaceful sleep- as he passed his window on the way across the lawn. Charles' marks were back to their usual peak, once again, and Erik was doing well in school too. But with Christmas advancing rapidly, Charles was getting more miserable. Christmas used to be family, if that had ever been what he'd had, and now, it certainly wasn't. It was November now and most of the boys were discussing their plans for the holidays. Alex would be staying here, as always, and his older brother would no doubt visit. Scott always came back for the Christmas holidays; he'd left the school a few years ago, but had been head boy, every teacher's favourite, and Charles' own mentor. He was always welcomed back. No one understood Charles and Raven's situation like the Summers' did. Charles had often pondered if the respect the other boys had for him didn't stem from his friendship with Scott and Alex. Janos, Azazel and Armando were heading home, though Armando seemed a little more pissed about it than the other two.

"I'd rather stay here!" Armando whined, stabbing the dry chicken in front of him violently.

"Are you kidding?" Azazel chimed in. "Come partying in London with me and Jan, it'll be good."

"As if Mum would even let me out of the house." He mumbled, stuffing the chicken into his mouth and wincing.

"Yeah, I get it actually. Stay here and we could have a shot with some of those girls over the road." Janos grinned as he received nods from the boys at his table.

Charles always took the table behind them at lunch time, he liked to keep an ear out for any trouble that Raven got into and wouldn't tell him about. It sounded like if he wasn't careful she would be in trouble this Christmas. He'd have to make sure she didn't go out partying.

"What about you Erik? Where're you heading?" Alex asked, smiling at Erik, warmly.

The noise in the cafeteria made it impossible to hear exactly what the boys were saying.

"Charles, Charles?" Hank was waving a hand in front of Charles' face, grinning like an idiot.

"Sorry, Hank, It's impossible to hear anything in here." Charles said, smiling back as he begun sawing at the rock of chicken on his plate. Hank wasn't exactly Charles' friend, more of a classmate. They had every class, save psychology together. Hank took Chemistry, and he was bloody good at it. He followed closely on Charles' tail in Biology too. They were friends on an intellectual level, and sat together at lunch and in assembly. It stopped Hank getting beat up, and Hank thought that it was because they were a pair that Charles didn't get beat up either. Hank was tall, and lanky. He had that awkward walk boys get when their bones have grown at a faster rate than their muscles and motor skills can keep up with. He was clumsy and awkward, but bashfully good-looking, his brown hair brushed to one side, and large glasses settled on his nose. He could've probably, with a little bit of work, fit in with the group they so often eavesdropped on. But though he fantasized about being a popular kid, he cared too much about his grades to try.

"I was just asking you who you're working with for the Biology project." Hank prompted, wiping his mouth and taking a long gulp of water.

"Oh, why? Who are you with?" Charles asked, confused, he thought it was a given that they'd be working together.

"Alex asked me." Hank stated, puffing his chest a little in pride, before giggling like a girl.

"Oh." Charles crossed his fingers that he'd able to work alone on this one. He hated working with Janos or Azazel, though Armando could be tolerable. "Well, I'm sure I'll think of something."

"I heard Lehnsherr's available. And he's actually pretty smart." Hank nodded, wolfing down some of the solid chicken. "I just think he's a bit scary." He shivered, jokingly, and Charles laughed for good measure.

"I'm sure Shaw'll let me work alone." Charles stated, picking up his tray and making for the door. He didn't want to give _anything _away. "See you later Hank."

"Bye, Charles." Hank muffled- his mouth still full of food.

As he left the hall, his eyes met Erik's, and he smiled, weakly, before Erik looked away, his friends trying to get his attention- punching his arm and waving hands in his face. Charles heard Erik's roar of laughter fade away as he headed towards the library.

…

Shaw didn't let him work alone. And no matter how hard he grovelled, Shaw would not let up.

"You know I'll do better by myself anyway!" Charles whined-arms folded across his chest.

"Oh Charles, you think I remotely care how well you do?" Shaw laughed breathily at Charles and ran a casual hand through his hair. "Working in groups isn't supposed to be easy. And why would I give you an unfair advantage?"

Charles frowned; there was something wrong with Shaw's calculations. Not that it mattered. Charles knew all too well that it was not about that at all. Shaw was bored, and his idea of entertainment was watching Charles struggle with one of the lazy, popular boys who wouldn't lift a finger with Charles as his partner.

"Look Charles, here's the thing," Shaw swung himself onto the bench, staring Charles down from an even greater height, "You get away with a lot around here, and pretty soon you're going to have to make a decision. " He smiled patronisingly, "What's more important, the squeaky clean record… or the _sex_? You won't be able to have both. And when you decide you can't survive without your secret life, you're going to want people like me on your side. Get it?"

"Thank you, Sir, but I'd like to leave school with a little dignity." Charles gulped. "I'm not a cheat."

Shaw laughed sadistically, shaking his head.

"You don't get it boy. You can't go back now. You_ have_ no dignity. I _know _you're shagging strangers in dirty motel rooms." Shaw spat with the forced level of disgust of a man guilty of the same crime. He had jumped from the bench and was hissing into Charles' face. Charles didn't dare wipe the spit from his cheeks until Shaw turned around to face the board, wiping it, absently. "This is your choice Charles. You side with me, or I expose you." He turned back to Charles abruptly "Now leave," shooing him out of the door with a flick of his hand.

Charles turned and walked from the room, trying to stand upright, and not let the weight of the impending decision crush him into the cold stones.

"Oh, and Charles?" Shaw shouted, leaning backwards on his chair so he could see Charles through the door frame. "You're working with Lehnsherr"

Charles caught a flash of the wicked grin, before the door was slammed closed and he was alone in the corridor.

…

Erik didn't see Charles out of the window that day. He'd hoped he would be there; he'd imagined that today would be the day they'd begin talking again. But he _couldn't_ see Charles sitting on his wall, coat pulled up to his chin, and his scarf covering his mouth. Nor could he watch the tips of Charles' fingers protruding from his torn grey gloves flicking numbly at the brown pages of a thick book. These past few weeks he'd been moving so slowly, every smile, or brief, scraping touch took days for Charles to relax into.

The wind was blowing harder than normal, the soft carpet of leaves that Charles' boots usually rested upon. He stared at the empty spot, thinking up a million different scenarios of what had happened to Charles. He'd seen him in Bio, but you couldn't tell much from the back of a head. Apart from that, today, Charles wasn't resting his head on his books, bruised neck visible beneath his collar as he had been more frequently at the start of the year. He could only deduce that Charles wasn't going out as much as he once did. Erik, too, wasn't seeing Sebastian nearly as much as he had at the start of the year. Initially their late-night encounters had been a stress relief mechanism, but it had quickly turned into a mundane, emotionless routine, that did little other than give him excellent biology grades.

He dreaded to think how the holidays would pass; he knew Alex would be around, which was comforting, but the absence of Charles' face was a little scary. He only survived the long days because of the reward of seeing Charles sitting, serenely involved in a book, or study, his face relaxed, and neck stretched along the wall behind him. How could he live through the weeks of loneliness, the homesickness, without the thrill of imagining Charles' face when he was surrounded by the heat of Shaw? _Ouch. Fuck._

Erik looked down to see the deep cut he'd made in his hand. _Fuck Charles. This is your fault. _He threw the lump of wood across the room, the knife falling from his hand and on the floor. He kicked his chair across the room, the metal bending against a table leg. He swiped his uninjured hand across the desk and knocked the contents to the floor. Cradling his bright red hand he stormed from block and marched across the courtyard. He thumped on Shaw's door, crimson marks left on the wood.

"Knock louder, why don't you." Sebastian opened the door and pulled Erik inside, shutting the door behind him quickly. Erik spun Shaw around and pushed their mouths together, Shaw's head colliding with the door. Shaw sniggered into Erik's open mouth, and dug his hands into his Erik's waist.

"You're a little keen today" He whispered, tongue swiping along Erik's lower lip gently. He ran his hands inside Erik's blazer, letting it fall to the floor, and pulled a rough hand along his ribs, waist, hips, before grabbing a tight hold of his wrists. Erik watched Seb take notice of the warm liquid dripping down Erik's wrist. Erik winced as Seb traced along his finger, his nails scraping the wound. Sebastian reached behind him, pulling a dark brown bottle from the dresser and pushing it into Erik's palm. Needing the numbing effect of the alcohol, Charles downed as much as he could in one gulp -the back of his throat burnt from the stinging liquor. In between harsh kisses, Shaw poured more of the poison into Erik's now clumsily opened mouth.

Erik could feel the drug bouncing through his veins. His fingertips were tingling, and his bruised mouth stung from the acid. He was mostly unaware of what Shaw was doing to him, whilst he lay motionless on the large wooden-framed bed. He couldn't even remember when they'd gotten to the bed. He felt Seb's fingers invade him, and rolled his hips automatically and repetitively against the intrusion, knowing all too well what would get Shaw off. With the black spots in his vision, the only things that served as a reminder that anything had even happened that night was the dull throbbing between his red cheeks, and the crusted handprints on his chest.

…

"Erik, What the FUCK?"

Charles had stared at the door, puzzled, for a few moments. He could hear that Alex was still next door with Janos, Azazel and Armando, and there was no one else that ever knocked on his door. He never saw Hank outside of the cafeteria or the class room, and surely Shaw wouldn't be back to torment him so soon. He hoped it was a teacher, giving extra homework, or handing back another 'brilliant' essay. The knocking was loud and uneven, and sounded more like a body crashing into it than a fist.

Erik was slumped against the door, redolent of his first day at the school, but this time his eyes were dark, shirt was ripped and there was blood… _oh my god. _His chest was covered in dark red smears and hand prints, and his hair stuck up awkwardly. His trousers were pulled up, but hung open, showing the top of his underwear, and he wasn't wearing shoes or socks. The source of the blood seemed to be a cut on his finger, but the streaks covering every visible part of his skin made it impossible to tell if it was the only source. Erik's mouth opened and closed, somewhat like a goldfish. Charles assumed he was trying to say something, but couldn't get it out. Charles slung a hand round Erik's waist and pulled him inside closing the door behind him clumsily, trying to retain a grip on Erik. His body slumped forward, chin on Charles' shoulder. Charles could taste the Whiskey in the air surrounding Erik, and in Erik's inebriated state, allowed himself an eye roll. He waddled awkwardly to the bed, and pushed Erik down onto the side of it by his shoulders. Erik looked up at Charles languidly, those long eyelashes fluttering the way they did in Charles' dreams. It was taking all of Charles' courage to not lean down and force those slightly parted lips to his own. He looked up to regain control of his mind, staring blankly at the ceiling and focusing himself. As he stood, Erik's hands worked themselves around his hips and he could feel Erik's strong teeth working helplessly at Charles' waistband. Erik inhaled deeply and pushed himself from Erik's insistent grasp. With the distance now between them he could see Erik's pleading expression, a beautiful sadness spilling out through his eyes.

"For fuck's sake, Erik," Charles muttered, so low Erik probably couldn't even hear him. "What happened?"

"Cut" Erik hiccupped, "my hand, in the workshop" he exhaled heavily, eyes locking with Charles'.

"Right…" Charles nodded, sceptically, "and how is it all over you?"

"Seb" Erik replied, casting his eyes down at his hand and swiping a hand over the injured finger.

Charles stared incriminatingly at the evidence on Erik's chest. _The bastard… _it was completely incomprehensible to Charles how he could leave Erik bleeding, drunk, walking the school. The thought of Erik calling Shaw 'Seb' made Charles feel sick. He felt his stomach rising the way it had when he'd first learnt of the affair, but now it was ten times worse. Though he could understand the irresistible pull Erik had when he was angry, how could Shaw ignore the cut- which from the looks of it was deep enough to have needed stitches- and just _fuck him anyway? _Let alone getting the student so drunk he could hardly have consented.

Charles ran Erik a bath and stripped him down. Erik was far too drunk and dizzy from blood loss to even really realise what Charles was doing. He kept trying to push their mouths together, but Charles just smiled and pushed him away, focusing instead on disinfecting the cut. Charles kept a first aid kit under his bed- sometimes his nights out ended with bruises and cuts he'd rather not show the school nurse, so he was able to take care of Erik himself. He bandaged the finger up- knowing it would scar- and before he realised what he was doing placed a kiss on the bandage. He looked away, hoping Erik hadn't noticed, but when he turned back, Erik was smiling at him obnoxiously through his drunken haze. Charles cleared his throat, gently.

"Sobering up?" He remarked, looking down at the floor. Erik nodded slowly, still grinning at Charles.

"Thanks," he gestured to the water surrounding him, "you didn't have to do this."

"I could hardly have sent you walking the corridors in this state," Charles said firmly, though he knew that Erik must know how much Charles loved looking after him. _You don't love Erik. _Erik nodded gravely in agreement, and, standing up briskly, grabbed to towel on the rack opposite the bath. Charles jumped up quickly to steady him, and helped him step out of the bath. While Erik dried himself, Charles threw the bloodied clothes into a laundry bag and stuffed them under his bed. He then grabbed the biggest pair of pyjama trousers and t-shirt he could find. He pulled a pair of boxer shorts from the drawer and handed the pile to Erik, who was standing watching him, towel slung round his waist, and damp hair sticking up where he'd tried to towel dry it. Charles chuckled lightly, watching Erik look at the pile with confusion.

"You're not going back in your destroyed clothes." He stated. "People would talk."

Erik raised an eyebrow, smiling. He turned and dropped his towel. Charles ground his teeth together, trying to look away. _Stop behaving like a girl._ Erik pulled on the boxers and the pyjama bottoms, which were much to small, and clung to his leg well above the ankle. He wriggled into the t-shirt, which was also to small, but Charles quite appreciated the way it moulded to the contours of Erik's chest. Erik turned back to Charles with a laugh

"You're a dwarf, you know." He giggled, eyeing himself in the mirror "Or did you just pick out the smallest you had for the view?"

Charles laughed uneasily, and plopped down on the bed.

"You can stay here tonight if you like, Alex will stay over there." He gestured through the wall where the dull reverberations of chatter could still be heard. Erik looked at Charles, raising his eyebrows

"Um, Charles, I'm well, but I'm still a bit sore, and…" Erik mumbled

"No! God, no! I mean, no…"Charles butted in back peddling frantically. "I meant…" he took a deep breath, staring at the floor as he cheeks inflamed with embarrassment, "you can sleep in Alex's bed, he won't mind."

"I know." Erik smiled, briefly "I was messing with you, Charles."

Charles hummed in agreement and shuffled underneath his covers. He turned to the wall to hide his still bright red cheeks and tried to close his eyes.

"You can turn the light off, Erik, I'm going to sleep." He said, feigning a yawn.

The light flicked off in reply and Charles could hear Erik's covers rustling. Here in the darkness it seemed all his inhibitions had left him and he was struck periodically with the impulse to get out of bed and join Erik. He tossed restlessly trying to distract himself from thinking about Erik, lying there, probably awake too. And he wondered if Erik was thinking the same.

…

Erik could see Charles' shape shifting beneath the covers by the light of the bright moon outside. His heart rate picked up every time in the hope that Charles was getting out of bed, and that here in the dark dorm room he would pad across the floor and they would be together, again. A few times he thought that maybe Charles was waiting for him, and that it should be him that made those few steps to the other bed. He dismissed the idea immediately, knowing it was stupid. Erik had made how he felt about Charles perfectly clear, and Charles that he didn't feel the same way. These last few weeks had been the most confusing and amazing of his life. He felt as if he could communicate with Charles without even speaking to him. It was because of those silent autumn days that they had watched one another through the window that Erik now felt as if he knew Charles better than he ever had anyone, and it was almost as if Charles understood him, too. Even though he had been hopelessly drunk, the conversation tonight was so natural that Erik thought he must have known Charles for years. And now, laying in the dark, the distance between them seemed further than ever. And yet, the knowledge that Charles was close by was incredibly comforting. The seconds passed like hours as Erik waited for Charles to say something, or for the sound of his snoring to fill the silent void.

"Erik?" Charles croaked.

"Mmmm..." Erik hummed in response, hoping his fake tiredness was convincing.

"Shaw's a sick fuck." Charles spat out, though there was light humour in his voice.

"I know." Erik sniggered; running his lips along the bandage Charles had wrapped around the wound, _and kissed. _Both boys laughed, laughs that quickly turned into sighs ofcontent.

"Good night, Charles." Erik whispered, rolling over in the bed to face the wall where Charles' silhouette wouldn't be so tempting.

"Good night, Erik." Charles replied, tucking his legs up to his chin and closing his eyes, too.

The silence was comfortable now, the tension that had thickened the air replaced with an easy breath of amity.

_I'm sorry, Charles._

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he was going mad, but he thought he heard Charles' reply.

_I know._


End file.
